The Way I Love You
by Lavender Leo
Summary: In a moment of vulnerability, Garcia admits the truth about her feelings, but how will Morgan take it? Morgan/Garcia. Oneshot. Complete.


_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't own Criminal Minds or its wonderful characters. I'm just borrowing them for a bit for playtime, and I promise to put them back when I'm done, like a good girl. _

**The Way I Love You**

Pushing open the glass door that led into the BAU, Derek Morgan blinked hard and shook his head. Exhausted as he was, he couldn't go home yet. A pile of reports was waiting, and while he'd gotten a few hours' sleep on the jet, Hotch hadn't slept a wink. Derek knew why. This unsub had hit too close to home, targeting divorced mothers with young sons. No doubt, it dredged up excruciating memories for his friend - being stabbed repeatedly by the Reaper, losing Haley, barely saving his son in time - memories that still haunted his eyes whenever he thought his coworkers weren't watching.

"You look tired," Hotch's deceptively calm voice murmured behind him. "You worked hard on this one, Morgan. Go home. I'll finish things up here."

"Not as tired as you," Derek replied, calling his friend out on it. "Hotch, I know you think staying here buried in paperwork will help take your mind off this unsub, but it won't. You need to go home, get some rest, and spend some time with Jack."

Hotch exhaled a heavy breath. Morgan had used his ace in the hole - Hotch's beloved son - and of course, it worked. They both knew that after a case like this, all Aaron Hotchner wanted was to hold his little boy in his arms and pray that nothing like that would ever happen to them again.

"All right. Be here in the morning and we'll finalize the reports," Hotch relented with a slight nod, silently departing behind the others.

Derek rubbed his eyes and headed towards the coffee machine. At first, he thought it was a symptom of overtiredness that he heard the relentless _click-click-click_ing of keys emanating from the closed door of Garcia's office. But when he detected the faint sounds of irritated self-talking, swiftly followed by a loud, reverberating clang and a couple of dull thuds, he knew it was time to investigate.

*LL*

"Unbelievable. Selfish. Typical male _slimebag_!" Penelope Garcia chucked another of the figurines that Kevin had bought her at Comic Con towards the garbage can in the corner, narrowly missing her best friend's head as he came thru the door.

"Whoa!" Morgan whistled as a miniature Boba Fett zipped past his head and rebounded off the wall into the trash. "Runway clear you for that takeoff?"

Garcia's neck almost snapped, her head turned so quickly. She hurriedly dabbed at her cheeks and looked away, hoping he hadn't noticed the streams of blue-black mascara and smeared purple eyeshadow. "Sorry. I think it goes without saying that I did not expect you to walk thru that door just now."

"We just got in," he explained, leaning wearily against the doorframe. "What are you doing here? Thought you were supposed to have the day off."

Thankfully, he didn't finish that sentence with, 'with Kevin.' If he had, she would have lost it right then and there. Come to think of it, though, he'd never exactly acknowledged the fellow computer whiz she'd been living with for over 3 years. The self-proclaimed queen of the motherboards had multiple theories as to why, but this wasn't the time or place to dwell on the one big Question with a capital 'Q' that was the nature of her relationship with Derek Morgan. He would certainly never bring it up. _And if I did, the chocolate Adonis would dodge me with supersonic speed,_ she thought sullenly. _Keep it together, kitten. One big glaring man-problem at a time._

"Just some stuff I need to take care of," she stalled, averting her eyes and pretending to be lost in her screens as usual. "Run along, my fine furry friend. You are way overdue for some hibernation."

"I may be tired, but I am _not_ asleep," Derek informed her, reading her almost as easily as he had Hotch. He approached her chair from behind and put his hands on her shoulders.

Garcia shuddered. It had been a while since she'd felt the safe, reassuring warmth of Morgan's touch. Too long, she realized, because now it only set her more on edge. He spoke softly into her ear. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm here if you want to talk."

"Really, I'm fine," she mumbled, wiping at her lower lashes.

"_Mm-hmm._ Okay, if you're fine, then prove it. Look at me." When she refused, his hands dropped down to turn the chair so that she faced him.

"I hope you realize that move just now was entirely unfair," she accused, not liking the fact that her vulnerable state was instantly exposed.

"Tough." He grunted in displeasure at the sight of tear tracks on her face. "You are _not_ fine. What's this about, baby girl?"

Large and childlike, her eyes rolled up to meet his gaze, an ingenuous blend of innocence and pain staring back at him. She almost wished she still wore glasses; she felt defenseless now that they were eye to eye. "Nothing. Really, it doesn't matter."

"It matters to _me_." Derek examined her with all the protectiveness of an elder brother, and the sincere devotion of a best friend.

Garcia sighed, realizing that this look of his no longer held its once-endearing power over her. Of course, after seven years together in the BAU, she knew better than to expect any other look from the man. Never had he ogled her as he had Tamyra Barnes, that dullest of damsels-in-distress, or his endless string of one-night-stand, anorexic-Barbie-wannabes. And after the tragic events following a certain fateful meeting in the coffee shop, she had accepted that he would never look at her that way. That had been bearable after finding Kevin, who gave her the physical love she lacked from Morgan's solely emotional bond. But now he was gone.

"Talk to me," the profiler prodded.

Penelope inhaled sharply, getting ready for the plunge. "Derek, you know you're my best friend. There is almost nothing in this world I would hesitate to discuss with you, but _this_… this is one of those exceptions."

Instantly, he looked injured. "You don't trust me?"

"Of course I do. It's just that the last time we tried talking about certain things, it didn't go too well."

"What things, Garcia?" he asked, going for the conversational jugular.

She reached for a tissue and started wiping; there was no point in keeping what was left of her makeup on, and the little white sheet gave her something to look at besides Morgan. "Oh, come on. Like you don't know what things. What is the one magical maypole of a subject we've managed to dance around for years without actually discussing?"

"So, this is about Lynch." It didn't escape her notice that he was distancing himself by using the man's surname. She knew enough about profiling to apprehend that much. When she failed to respond, Morgan folded his arms. "Okay, I know you usually talk to JJ and Prentiss about things like this, but they're not here right now and I am. You said I was your best friend. If something's going on, why wouldn't I be the first one you call?"

"Because our friendship has always had certain boundaries," she said sincerely, testing his seeming resolve to steer the conversation into more serious territory. "And because I can't handle losing you too."

"Wait a minute. You mean he broke _up_ with you?" Morgan's face changed, and his eyes got bigger, although she wasn't sure how to read this particular expression. "You've got to be the best thing that ever happened to him. Why would he screw that up?"

"Don't know. Don't care," she lied, pursing her lips and looking at a grouping of bright-haired troll dolls to avoid his scrutiny. "I threw his stuff out of my apartment this afternoon, and I've spent the evening cleaning it out of here. That's that. End of story."

"Like hell it is!" Morgan scoffed. "You were together a long time. I know this has to hurt. You need to let it out."

"_You_ need to let this go!" she retorted. "Just… go finish the case reports, okay?"

"While you suffer through this by yourself? I don't think so." He came close again and pulled her up into his arms.

Even sweaty from the chase and probably unshowered for a good day and a half, Derek smelled practically edible, with faint traces of cologne and coffee. Penelope shivered in his embrace, trying to stay strong. Trying to pretend like being abandoned by Kevin hadn't hurt. Trying to shield herself and Morgan from what would surely happen if he kept pushing past her barriers.

"Was it someone else?" Morgan murmured.

Breathing hard, she nodded. "But that's not the only reason. He's leaving, Derek. He took another job with counter-terrorism. I don't even know where he's going."

"What?"

"I guess I should have seen this coming. He applied for a job like this once before without telling me, and asked me to go with him after the fact. I didn't want to leave the BAU, so I used my considerable skills to delete the posting he'd applied for, and that was that. This time, though, I didn't get asked."

"Baby girl, I am so sorry." He kissed the top of her head. "You know he's an idiot. What could this other woman possibly have that you don't?"

Trying to pull back somewhat, Garcia shrugged. "She's an old flame, and like a faithful puppy, she's willing to follow him anywhere. I can't say the same."

"Why not?" he wondered aloud. "Don't you love him?"

Penelope shook her head. "It's not that. It's… he expected me to drop everything and leave my family. You, and JJ, and Emily and Rossi and Reid and Hotch – you're my family." A flood of new tears erupted from her eyes. "You don't know how much you mean to me. How much I love you."

"We all love _you_," Derek said, obviously taking her last comment in the plural sense. "I'm sure I can speak for all of us when I say that we want you to do whatever makes you happy. But if Lynch isn't taking what would make you happy into consideration before he makes a move like this, then he's obviously not good enough for you."

Her reddened eyes widened considerably. "I never thought of it that way."

"Now, aren't you glad you talked to me about it?" he smiled. "Come here, baby girl. You cry as long as you need to. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

As he drew her in against him once more, Penelope felt herself breaking. Touched as she was by this display of caring, she didn't have the strength to pretend that his hug gave her more comfort than sorrow. Not today. With what little determination she had left, she pushed him away and took an awkward step back. "No. Please, Derek, don't."

She could almost see the question mark hanging over his head. "Don't what?"

"I can't do this." Garcia hung her head and hid behind her dyed curls, embarrassed that she'd left a salty puddle on Derek's shoulder and grip wrinkles in the front of his shirt. "You need to go. Please, go."

Morgan was clearly confused. It was written all over his face. "Did I do something wrong?"

Her shoulders collapsed in a sigh of utter exhaustion. She simply didn't have the energy for this fight. So, she said it. "No. I'm just tired, and… I love you."

He smiled softly, thinking she'd gone back to their usual repartee. "I love you too, silly girl."

"See, that's just it. You don't. Not the way I love you," she revealed.

Derek raised an eyebrow. For a moment, he doubted he'd heard her correctly – then, the world came to a grinding halt, and gravity threatened to press him into the floor. He struggled to breathe, to make some sense of this, but he was literally gobsmacked. All he could do was breathe, "Oh, Penelope."

"You look so surprised," she mused ironically. "Was I really that subtle?"

He felt like his head was spinning. "Oh my God. Then you actually… why didn't you say something?"

"Because I've seen the kind of woman you want, and it's not me." She looked at the ceiling, unable to meet his eye. "You know, when Colby – sorry, _Battle_ – shot me, that bullet didn't hurt nearly as bad as what you said before I went out with him. That, because he was smoking-hot, there was no way he could be interested in me."

"Garcia, don't," he begged, his heart pounding, but he knew it was too late for that. The tide had already risen and was sweeping them both downstream.

"You were so shocked that a good-looking man found me attractive. And I wanted to believe you were wrong, but you were right, and I was stupid."

"No. That is _not_ what happened," he tried to defend.

"Then what happened, Derek?" she demanded, as visibly shaken to the core as he inwardly was becoming. "When you came to protect me, it was out of guilt, wasn't it? Because you knew part of the reason I went out with him was to prove you wrong, so I wouldn't feel so bad about myself."

"No," he said firmly, "it was because I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you!"

She shook her head, looked up at the ceiling and gulped hard. Her perfectly-painted face was washed away. "You know, I pretty much live for those phone calls of ours? Yeah. Pathetic, huh? I told myself it was better to have you love me as a friend than not at all. Then Kevin came along, and I thought, okay Universe! Here's a swell consolation prize. But I couldn't hold onto him, either. I don't know why I thought I could."

Floundering, he smoothed his hands over his head. "I don't know what to say."

"Just tell me the truth," she murmured bitterly. " Tell me how ugly I am. Tell me how stupid I am for thinking anybody could ever want me. I need to hear it so I can get it through my head and stop wishing for things I can never have. Especially _you_."

Morgan felt like he'd been punched. Actually, no, a fist to the gut would have been easier to handle than this. His face was hot, and it seemed like the room was spinning. It was a classic trauma reaction, but damned if he could remember how to treat it now that he was the one in shock.

What's worse, Garcia clearly took his silence as confirmation. The tech analyst swept the remaining toys off her desk in her haste to pick up her purse and leave.

Immobilized and lost, he watched his baby girl, the woman he'd safely loved from his own level of comfort and convenience, wobble away on her faux-zebra coat heels and out of his sight.

*LL*

"Oh, God," JJ said sympathetically through the phone. "I knew it had to come out at some point, but Penelope, I'm so sorry."

"The worst part was, he just stood there," Garcia sniffed, sitting cross-legged on her couch in her comfiest pajamas with a cup of jasmine tea. "He didn't say anything. He didn't even try to stop me from leaving."

"It sounds like he was in shock," JJ supplied. A southern drawl murmured in the background, and the blonde agent paused for a minute. "Yeah, okay. Will wants to talk to you."

"Hey, cher," Will's slightly nasal, but entirely sweet cajun accent started, "how you holdin' up?"

"Like an impenetrable fortress of stone," Garcia tried to grandstand for his sake.

"Listen, I know you want to talk to JJ, but I thought it might help to get a man's perspective on this. A man who isn't Spencer or Aaron or David," he clarified. Though he didn't go into detail, she knew what he meant - that she probably wouldn't get the best love advice from a naive wonder-boy, a traumatized widower or a skirt-chaser looking for Wife #4. "I might be wrong, but it sounds to me like Morgan is scared. JJ didn't tell me all the details, but I know there was some pretty awful stuff done to him when he was a boy, and things like that change a man. Now, I'm no profiler, but I'd say he's afraid to let his guard down. He's scared that when that big tough guy routine falls apart, you'll see what's underneath: that same scared little boy who's afraid to trust anybody."

"Wow. That was incredibly insightful," Garcia admitted, as it did make a lot of sense. "Thanks, Will. I appreciate that."

"I'll give ya back to JJ now," he said. "Let us know how things turn out, but I sincerely believe it'll all work out just fine, even if it doesn't seem like it right now."

"Jaje, I hope you know that you married the most amazing man alive," she told her friend when she came back on the line.

"Don't tell him that. I have to live with him, you know," JJ joked.

"That was so unbelievably sweet. I -"

She stopped short as a knock rapped at her door.

"What is it?" JJ asked, feeling her pause.

"Someone's at the door." Garcia gasped. It was late - too late for the few friends she had to come calling. She knew it wasn't Reid, which meant that it could only be one of two terrifying options. Another unsub waiting for her with a gun - or, even more frightening, Derek Morgan.

"I'll stay on the phone until you answer it," JJ offered, knowing Garcia still had leftover fears from the incident, like any normal person would.

"Okay." Breathing hard, Garcia turned the knob and pulled back the door. Behind it stood a newly-showered Derek in a fitted black Tshirt and jeans, with a bouquet of red and pink roses in his hand.

"Can I come in?" he asked hopefully.

"Jaje, I gotta go," she murmured, nodding to Derek, who slid in behind her.

"I'll call you tomorrow and check on you," JJ promised before they hung up.

"How is she?" Morgan asked, inquiring after JJ.

"She's fine. So is Will, and the baby." Garcia eyed the flowers suspiciously. "Are those for me?"

"What do you think?" he asked, with only a hint of their usual banter showing through.

"I think you're trying to get on my good side," she said cautiously.

"That's right." He gave her a tentative smile. "If you have a vase, I can put these in water for you."

"Yeah. It's in here."

He followed the padding of her fuzzy-slippered feet into the kitchen of her apartment, where she pointed to a hand-painted, brightly-colored vase on the refrigerator. Morgan took it down and busied himself with transferring the flowers into it.

"So what are the roses for?" Garcia dared, arching both eyebrows beneath her pigtails as she watched him move them into the vase. "An apology?"

"No," he replied, surprising her. "They're for the proposition that comes after the apology."

"Well, let's hear the apology first," she mused, not sure where he was going with this.

"Okay." He finished what he was doing and washed and dried his hands, then surprisingly reached for hers. "Garcia – Penelope – you know me better than anyone else. I trust our team with my life, but I trust you with something even more important: my heart. I always have. The problem was, I didn't know how to show it. I thought words were enough. And I swear, I did not know that your feelings for me went that deep. When I realized how much I hurt you, it was like a knife through my chest. I know nothing I can say will make things right, but for whatever it's worth, I am truly sorry."

Her jaw dropped. "Oh."

"I'm not sure what 'oh' means," Derek prompted. "Are we okay?"

"We're okay," she nodded. "But if you make me cry again, the deal is off and I sic the hounds on you."

Morgan chuckled breathily, then brought each of her hands up to his lips and gave them a kiss. "Woman, if I ever make you cry again, I hope the devil himself sends the dogs out after me."

"He's gotta get thru me first," she teased softly.

"Are you saying you'd protect me?"

"No. I'm saying I would hurt you severely and the devil would just have to get in line."

"Well, then I'd better hurry and make my proposition before you decide to turn into my own private unsub," he joked.

"And what is this proposition you speak of?"

"That if you promise not to give up on me," Derek began, "I'll spend as long as it takes to make things up to you."

Garcia's face fell. "So – you want us to be friends again?"

"Just for about a year or so," he replied, "because after that, unless you say no, I have every intention of making you my wife."

"Y-your wife." She blinked hard. "Oh God. I must have OD'd on cookie dough, died and gone to nirvana. Because I swear, I just thought I heard you ask me to be Mrs. Derek Morgan, and that is some kind of crack-induced hallucination."

"You think this is a dream, baby girl?" he laughed.

"Not a dream, a trip. There is a distinct difference."

"Okay, then. Let me prove to you that it's real."

Garcia drew in a sharp breath as his hands, which had been locked in hers since apologizing, drew her arms up so that they rested on his shoulders. Smoldering sepia eyes locked into her brown ones as Morgan's hands slid down to the small of her back. His movements seductively slow, he drew her closer, and his mocha lips came down to meet her cherry-tinted ones. Garcia's hands wound around his neck as his lips parted and they tasted one another for the first time.

"_Mmm_," he murmured, drawing back a little. "Woman, you know you taste like white chocolate candy?"

"Question is, do I taste like that all over?" she teased.

"You better not tempt me," Derek warned with a grin. "A man might skip dinner and go straight on to dessert."

"Well, I am hardly dressed for dinner," Garcia shrugged, indicating her PJ's.

"And I'm overdressed for dessert," he played along. "But tonight, the menu's up to you. Just tell me what you want."

Garcia thought for a second, then looked up with a triumphant smirk. "_Everything_."


End file.
